“You can,” he answers, just as calm. “That’s why I brought you here—to show you the truth.”

“How did you get it?”

“It came from one of The Gatherings.” He moves next to me, reaching for my hand, but I pull away. “Usually there are three Bellators dumped out into the dessert. But there was one specific time where one of these showed up in a body bag.”  He points his finger sharply at the Higher. “No one wanted to bring it back,” he says. “But Dominic insisted we had to, so we did, but trapped it in here, so it wouldn’t try to overtake things.”

I tilt my head. “Who’s Dominic?”

“You’ll meet him soon,” he says. “He’s one of the original Gathering members—one of the first one's who was ever dumped and who built all of this.”

“But why keep it alive.” I gaze the silver-lined room. “Why not just kill it and be done with it? I mean, is there really a point in keeping it?”

As if hearing my harsh words, the Higher lifts its head, its eyes pale and tired. “Ajuta-ma,” he says weakly.

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask. “Why is it so weak?”

Aiden scuffs his boot against the cement floor. “It’s the silver. It weakens them.”

“How do you know all this?” I ask.

He shrugs, holding a secret back he never wants me to find out about.

“You’re hiding something,” I say. “What is it?”

“Maybe I should be asking you the same thing.” He steps for me, getting in my face. “You’re hiding something from me, Juniper, I can tell.”

I freeze at the sound of my second name. “What did you just call me?”

“Kayla. I called you Kayla.” His voice suggests composure, but the fear emitting from him tells me different. He’s afraid of me finding out the truth from him.

I back for the door. “Who are you really? And why do you know that name? No one calls me that but Tristan.”

I watch to see if he recognizes Tristan’s name. He does. His face reddens and he lowers his voice, breathing hotly against my cheek. “Does Tristan know about this?” He touches my arm, pouring his fear through me. “Or that you’re never afraid.”

I’m gone, out the door before he can utter more words that don’t make sense. I smack the guard down that blocks my way and run down the hall, fast, knocking down people as I push through the crowd and dash up the stairs. I draw my knife out as I reach the exit door.

The red-headed guy—Greyson steps in my way. “Nuh uh. You can’t go out—it’s dark.”

“I don’t care,” I say. “Let me out.”

“Hey, take it easy.” He holds up his hands. “No one’s here to hurt you, Kayla.”